


Hit Me Hard

by Merixcil



Series: Advent Fics 2019 [11]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Hellblazer
Genre: Consensual Violence, Gen, Non-sexual Violence, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: John asks Bruce to hit him as hard as he can
Relationships: John Constantine & Bruce Wayne
Series: Advent Fics 2019 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916806
Kudos: 7





	Hit Me Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [When We Collide by Matt Cardle ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6FSxwdN08PvzimGApFjRnY)  
> 

It’s sort of like being shot, except he’s not left with a gaping wound through his shoulder this time round. John falls back against the training mats, gasping to regain the breath that was just knocked out of him. “Jesus Christ, man.”

“Sorry.” Bruce rushes over, leaning over him and effectively blocking out the overhead lights in his home gym. “Did I hurt you?”

John waves him down, but accepts the hand that Bruce offers to help him up. Yes, that definitely hurt. No, that’s not really a problem in this scenario. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Bruce asks, looking John up and down like a broken rib might explode out of his chest at any second. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I asked you to hit me, didn’t I? You get like this when you’re training your Robins?”

“Sometimes.” Bruce admits. “It’s better to check that they’re handling everything effectively in training than pausing in the middle of a real fight.”

That counts for something, John supposes. It’s definitely nice to hear that Bruce doesn’t expect perfect stoicism from his charges at all times. He’s seen the gang in action and can personally attest to how alarming it is to see a preteen take a roundhouse kick to the stomach and get no more encouragement from his father than a quick check to make sure nothing serious is broken and an instruction to get back on his feet. 

“Well that’s a mean right hook you’ve got there. I’m sure no one’s coming up against you if you can hit that hard.” 

Bruce smiles ever so slightly, approaching devilish, and John sorely wishes he knew what he said to provoke that expression because it’s far too sexy to be allowed to vanish into thin air. “I can hit much harder than that.”

“You what?” John’s eyes narrow. “I thought I told you to come at me as hard as possible.”

“Yes. And I told you that most people need some time to work up to that.”

“Pfft.” John waves him off. “If Dick Grayson can handle it, I can handle it.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“I’m an adult man, Bruce. And I’m telling you to hit me as hard as you possibly can, and that’s after you knocked me on my arse.”

“I’m also an adult, and I’m telling you that I don’t particularly want to cause you any lasting damage.”

“Come on! I’m damned, I’m already permanently damaged.”

The smile is well and truly gone now, replaced by the awkward, pinched expression Bruce adopts when he doesn’t quite know how to communicate what he’s feeling. In John’s experience, it tends to get brought out for situations where he knows he should feel bad for someone but he’s not sure he can address it without bringing up painful things. Safe to say, he doesn’t like John joking about the fate of his eternal soul. 

“That’s your excuse for everything.” Bruce mutters.

“And it usually works. Come on now, big guy. Back up and show me what you got.”

Begrudgingly, Bruce steps back. His workout gear is, like so much of his wardrobe, completely black, and on his preposterously well proportioned figure it looks fashion magazine worthy. The shirt in particular has to be about two sizes too small, seeing as how it has artfully managed to stretch itself to highlight the curves of Bruce’s pecs. It makes John’s glorified pyjamas feel hilariously inadequate in comparison. 

“I’m not going to be able to put my full weight into this.” Bruce explains, running through a couple of stretches that he had totally skipped on his previous run up. “And I always hit harder in the suit because it gives me more weight to throw behind my punches.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get on with it.” John bounces from foot to foot in a poor imitation of a boxer gearing up for a round. His stomach is flip flopping spectacularly, slightly scared to find out just how thoroughly he’s about to go down but thrilled at the possibility of seeing Bruce in action up close.

“You should put a helmet on.” Bruce advises, and John rather reluctantly complies. 

Three seconds later, he’s very glad he did. John hits the safety mat with such force that he’s sure it wouldn’t have done a thing to stop him going out cold if his head wasn’t protected. His first attempt to draw breath fails completely and it’s only on the third try that he actually gets a decent lungful of air. He sits up, gasping, feeling like a ragdoll with half the stuffing knocked out of it.

Bruce hurries over, crouching down on his haunches and leaning in close. “Are you alright?”

John’s pretty sure his diaphragm is going to ache for a week and his internal organs may all have fallen into the wrong place. He nods, grinning at Bruce before leaning in to kiss him quickly. “Fantastic. Let’s go again!”

“Absolutely not.” Bruce says. “But if you like, we could find out how hard you can hit something?”

“Where’s the fun in that? It’s not like I’m strong enough to knock you down.” John protests, but he allows himself to be lead over to the punching bags with minimal fuss. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted as part of a multi chaptered 'advent fics' fic that I'm trying to split up. If you think you've read it before, you probably have
> 
> If this is your favourite song in the world then I apologise but I just....this is a very bad cover. It's weird enough hearing the song without a Scottish accent is weird on it's own but all the soul seems to have been rung out of it and I would remiss if I didn't link through to [Many of Horror by Biffy Clyro](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Au4QRVX0hwIRVv1svcqhD) which is the original
> 
> Side note: why did the UK ever have a song that uses domestic abuse as a metaphor for high strung relationships as a Christmas number one????????
> 
> Comments on the previous posting of this fic (just ask if you want me to remove yours) include:
> 
> >Melamungous: Adding kudos kudos kudos here because this chapter was cute as hell  
> >>Merixcil: Ahh thank you friend! I was hoping you'd see this :)))


End file.
